A FLY (AND INFINITY)


Whilst I am at my morning exercises,

the limited dumbbell, the selected

Pilates, observing, through the French window,

the shimmering, ornamental grasses –

that obscure the water feature – and the odd

finch and dunnock feasting on the birch

and the lawn, a large, black, raucous fly

hits one of the panes, once, twice, thrice then stops,

becomes silent. We are all learners, most of the time.

It – in a long life I have never learned

how to sex a fly – walks with care, slowly,

methodically, systematically

across the pane, looking for an end to

such transparent nonsense.

 

 

 

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  1. #1 by Ian Craine - May 25th, 2014 at 11:17

    I particularly like this one. Such a small moment evoked. A very original piece of observation.

  2. #2 by John Huddart - June 21st, 2014 at 12:56

    I feel somehow this delightful piece of observation was extracted from a lost section of King Lear!

  3. #3 by David Selzer - June 22nd, 2014 at 18:23

    There’s a poem in this – or maybe two. One I write, and the other you.

  4. #4 by anne wynne - June 26th, 2014 at 10:00

    This made me smile. Created a wonderful picture of a human stopped in his tracks by a busy, confused fly trying to find a way in. Such a lovely observation and it was the last line that really did it for me – I imagine this fly cursing and becoming more exasperated by the “transparent nonsense”. Fab!

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